


Spirits

by KestrelShrike



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Shakarian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: Did someone say Halloween Shakarian angst? No? Well, too bad. This is for the Mass Effect Halloween hosted over on Tumblr. Thanks for reading- comments always appreciated. <3





	Spirits

The veil grew thin.

This time of year was always difficult. The days grew longer, and Shepard longed for the strictly regimented cycles of the Citadel. It rose above them, the largest skeleton of all, obscuring every paper figure stuck on London’s many doors. One day it would be habitable again, but for now it was still a work in progress, visible only when the moon was heavy and full.

It was not the only thing under construction. Shepard swung herself out of her wheelchair with practised, false ease. It still hurt her legs to even put the slightest weight on them, but to feel them respond was something she was supposed to appreciate, even as every footfall sent a lance of fire down her. This had to be done though. This couldn’t happen from the chair, where she felt so confined.

The row of candles sat on the small seat of the bay window, overlooking a quiet square that could have been five hundred years in the past, careful, curated plants and historical white trim. It was only when you looked closer that you saw the lamps were solar powered, that people buzzed to and fro checking omni-tools and tablets.

Garrus didn’t break Shepard’s silence, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing once, lightly before pulling her chair back and tucking it into an alcove where it couldn’t be seen. They might have trick or treaters tonight, a custom that had taken curiously long to come to this part of the world but had returned with a vengeance over the past year, where parents clung to anything that would make their children’s lives easier, more normal.

The first candle lit, flame flickering once before going strong. Before it, Shepard placed a single shell.Garrus was behind her still, head bowed. “The Jurassic Coast. You would have liked it, Mordin.” There was no time to pause and reflect on him; if Shepard stayed her hand, she wouldn’t be able to continue.

The next one smelled faintly of the sea, of salt and something left by the high tide. There was little Shepard could say. “I miss you. You would have made sense of this.” She wasn’t religious, had never found much comfort in it, but through Thane, she perhaps understood it a little better. He wasn’t alone, however, another candle pushed next to his own. “And if he didn’t, you would. You’d make me see.” A fond smile down at what remained of Ashley, distant memories of a life burnt out too soon.

Three wicks on a single, large wax cylinder, meant to symbolize so many lives lost when Shepard had made her choice. She hesitated, hand holding a match and shaking slightly. “You made the right choice,” Garrus said from over her shoulder, the lightest of touches letting her know she wasn’t alone.

“I’ll bring you back one day. All of you.” EDI. Legion. The geth. They all had souls, as far as she was concerned, and they were clamoring to press through just as much as all the rest.

The last one was the hardest of all. No words could sum up Anderson, and Shepard kept silent, jaw squared, eyes refusing to blink, staring into the flame as it caught, burning merrily. The window was lit up now, enough that it would attract curious eyes if she didn’t draw the curtains.

Every death pressed towards her now, beckoning her to join them. Shepard had come so close not just once, but twice. She didn’t belong here, had no right to be so vibrantly, painfully alive when they were gone. It would be so easy to slip through and follow them, especially tonight. They would welcome her with open arms and tell her there was no more pain left.

“Shepard, come back to me.” But there was Garrus. He was always there, always had been there even from the very beginning. If she slipped away, where would that leave him? He was her constant and her anchor, and she dragged her eyes away from every tiny flicker, from the hands that could puncture through that last barrier between life and death and bring her through.

“I’m here, Garrus, I’m here.” It was a reassurance not only for him, but for herself. It was time to be Commander Shepard again, the sound of giggling children sweeping in from the street outside. Soon there would be a knock on the door, a demand for tricks or treats and she had so much work yet to do.

The candles would be lit next year, and with Garrus hand pressed against her cheek, Shepard said goodbye once again.


End file.
